


Waiting for the Sun

by Sevi007



Series: Lucid Dreaming [7]
Category: Bayonetta (Video Games), Devil May Cry
Genre: Absolutely unrepentant fluff in the second chapter, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Happy Late Holidays!, Minor Original Character(s), Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-09-27 23:04:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17171147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sevi007/pseuds/Sevi007
Summary: The thing was - Dante didn’t celebrate things like Christmas. The last time he had celebrated any holiday was… well, frankly, he didn’t really want to remember the last time, too much was tied to it that didn’t feel good to remember.Now, if only he had remembered to tell all his friends that he didn’t wish to celebrate. Then they probably wouldn’t have brought him to the point where he actually had to think about things.





	1. Dark winter

**Author's Note:**

> This is entirely based on that headcanon of mine that “Bayonetta” and “Devil May Cry” are set in the same universe and that the older generation (aka Eva, Sparda, Rodin, Antonio Redgrave and so on) knew each other, that they were even associates or close to friends.  
> And on the fact that I stumbled upon a picture of Rodin dressed as Santa Clause. So, there’s that, too. 
> 
> Happy late Holidays to all of you, may it be full of happiness and love! =D

_But still, the fragile seeds wait long for the sun to shine_

_Dark winter away, come spring._

_My young seeds once again will look up to the sky,_

_And I know they will grow strong._

**_\- “Seeds of love”, DMC 1_ **

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ D ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

Dante did enjoy a free day every now and then.

 

That might have been surprising to some people – even those who knew him – but Dante did, actually, honestly, _enjoy_ a free day. Especially after too many tedious missions at once. Or a whole save-the-world-gig. He found that after those, even _he_ had enough of kicking-demon-butts for a while.

 

(And of holes in his clothes. Or his body. Honestly, just, holes in general.)

 

So when there actually _was_ someone ringing the bell at his door the _one_ day he had decided to take off, he was all kinds of things, but _pleased_ was not one of them.

 

He shifted the magazine laying upturned over his face just enough to send a one-eyed, offended look towards the door. Nope, no way in hell was he going to open it. If he just let them try without success, hopefully, they would scram soon enough. Having just unplugged his phone, there wasn’t even a way they could ring through.

 

He waited another beat, but the doorbell didn’t sound again. Satisfied, Dante shifted just enough to get his propped-up feet in a more comfortable position, before closing his eyes again. Finally, some peace and quiet.

 

Then there was a sort of thumping sound coming from the door. He did let himself be goaded by it to glance over again. That was neither knocking or ringing or anything else he was familiar with.

He did, however, recognize the hoarsely grumbled swear that followed, no matter how muffled it was through the door.

_Oh. Alright, then._

With a snort, Dante pushed himself upright, shaking off the magazine and dropping it back onto the desk without so much as looking.

“Did you lose your key or… huh.” he stopped mid-sentence once he got the door open, taking in the unusual sight that presented itself.

 

Not that _Morrison_ was an unusual sight, no really, the opposite. But Morrison, carrying two boxes that looked heavy plus balancing an assortment of metal and plastic pieces on top of it, now _that_ was something he didn’t see often. Never, to be exact.

“Oh, good,” Morrison greeted him, angling around from where he had apparently had tried to find his key and open the door without putting anything down. “Take the stuff on top for a second, will you? Else I drop everything on your doorstep.”

Without much thinking, Dante obliged, helping the other out – and was left standing there with his arms full as Morrison brushed past him into the room with a muttered _thanks_ and a relieved sigh.

 

Dumbfounded, Dante blinked down at the assortment of things in his arms, recognizing it to be _kitchenware_ , of all things.

“What the heck do you need so many bowls for?”

“ _You_ are going to need them,” Morrison informed him – rather unhelpfully, Dante found. Having shook of coat, hat and wet boots, the older man shrugged his shoulders, gesturing, until Dante put the bowls back on top of the boxes the other was still carrying.

 

With a grunt, Morrison fumbled for a moment before he found his balance again, making his way towards the kitchen. “Don’t mind me, I know where to put this.”

“What do _I_ need them for?” Dante followed after Morrison, not knowing what else to do. But the other had the gall to simply snort and shoo him away before vanishing into the kitchen, leaving him standing rather dumbly in the middle of his own shop, without any clue what was going on.

Really now, this _got_ to be some sort of joke on his expense.

 

Grumbling, Dante only now noticed the source of the cold air suddenly finding its way into the shop. “Oi, don’t just leave other people’s doors open!”

“Ain’t gonna close the door in front of Patty’s nose!”

And as if on commando, a blur of blonde hair and pink cheeks came basically flying through the door. Only practice and inhuman reflexes made Dante catch her before she ran him over.

“Hey!” Patty greeted him where she had basically tackled him, laughing into his grumpy face. “You were taking a nap, weren’t you? You’re so _cranky_ when you get woken up from your naps.”

“Patty. What did I tell you about jumping at me?”

“Oh, puh- _lease_ , as if you’re _not_ gonna catch me”, she rolled her eyes at him – that was very familiar – and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead before dancing out of his reach – that was absolutely _not_ familiar.

When exactly had she grown so tall that she could do that without having to be lifted up?

 

The door slammed with a well-aimed kick, before Patty asked all too innocently, “Morrison is here already?”

Drawn from his musings about kids and growing up too quickly, Dante gestured over his shoulder towards the kitchen, grunting an affirmative out.

“Neat!” Innocence gone in a blink, Patty’s face was all mischievous joy while she started unwrapping her scarf, throwing it haphazardly over the nearest chair before starting on her jacket. “Means I don’t have to worry about the kitchen.”

“Why are you guys worrying about my _kitchen_ all of sudden?” Dante couldn’t help but snort at the thought. He didn’t even _use_ that kitchen all too often. That’s what food delivery had been invented for.

“It’s not _only_ the kitchen, believe me,” the long-suffering look she gave him made him grin. Some things never changed. “Anyway, do you have any decorations or stuff?”

That wiped the grin straight of his face again. “Any _what?_ ”

“Decorations,” Patty repeated, slow and accentuated, then groaned when she caught sight of his blank expression, waving it off impatiently. “Never mind, you’re a lost cause. I’m going to look upstairs if I find something.”

“Why do you even need… _Patty._ ”

 

But she was already gone, bounding up the stairs taking two steps at once. Halfway up, she stopped to lean over the railing and called out, “Morrison, if I don’t find any decorations, can you tell the others?”

“Got’cha, Patty.”

“You’re the best, thanks!”

“Wait,” having a bad feeling about this, Dante frowned, calling after Patty’s retreating back. “ _Who_ do you mean with _others_ , Patty?!”

“It’s gonna get a bit crowded,” was all she answered before he heard doors slam, falling victims to the human-shaped whirlwind.

 

_Crowded?!_

Dante was just about to ask again when a soft knock reached his sharp ears, almost timid in its nature.

 

Even vary as he was, he couldn’t help the smile ticking the corner of his lips upwards. There was only one of his many associates who even had the _patience_ to knock at his door.

Two quick strides and he was across the room, opening the door – again - with a mock-bow to top things off. “Ma’am?”

“Hello, Dante.” Kyrie laughed at him, always amused by his antics (and absolutely not the reason why he got even sillier with her around, if anyone asked). There was a beanie pulled over her red locks and a scarf wrapped nearly up to the tip of her nose, but her cheeks were still kissed pink by the cold. She didn’t seem to mind, near glowing with joy as always.

 

She didn’t hesitate to duck over the doorstep and stand on her tiptoes to give him a hug. Dante let her, wrapping one arm around her waist to squeeze back quickly, warmly, before allowing her step away. “Hey there, kiddo. How you doing?”

“Wonderful, to be honest,” there was mischief twinkling in her eyes as she looked him up and down before casting a quick glance around the shop. “A bit sorry for ambushing you like this, perhaps?”

Dante had been about to give back a quip or something of the sorts, but her comment made suspicion rise. “Kyrie, you wouldn’t happen to know why everybody is frequenting my shop today, would you.”

The way she smiled while biting her bottom lip was telling all on its own. “Maybe?”

 

That was it. Dante threw up his hands, turning towards the kitchen to make sure that all of his (uninvited) guests could hear him as he called, “Seriously, guys, did I miss a birthday or something?!”

 

“Told you he missed it!” Morrison’s grumble was even audible over the clacking of him unpacking whatever he had had in those boxes.

Quick steps could be heard from above, before Patty all but threw herself over the railing of the stairs, eyes wide. “Dante! Do you _ever_ check your calendar?!”

“Which calendar?” He retorted, stubbornly, because this was absolutely not his fault this time. Even though he was already wracking his brain to find out what he could have missed there.

“I _gifted_ you one, you big _dummy_!”

“Was that the thing you _threw at my head_ when-…”

 

“It’s Christmas Eve, old man.”

 

The deep voice cut easily through the beginning of a full-blown argument – as did his and Patty’s conversation turn so often into – and Dante blinked, perplexed, before his head turned around slowly to the newcomer.

 

Nero ambled through the open door, one arm loaded with shopping bags, amusement and surprise warring on his face. “You really didn’t know?”

Still perplexed, Dante found it unusually difficult to string a sentence together. The comment that was meant to be funny sounded more like a question even to his own ears. “Could have sworn we had Christmas Eve last year?”

 

Nero’s eyebrow rose higher up, amusement making way for something else, and Dante caught him exchanging a quick glance with Kyrie, who looked more worried than anything else by now.

Oh, but _damn_ the kid, he shouldn’t know him so _well_ by now. Shouldn’t have been able to tell when he had been caught wrong-footed, or was actually shaken about something.

 

(When had those people become so attuned to him, that they could pinpoint his moods when he wasn’t sure what to feel, himself?)

 

A tiny weight cannonballed into Dante’s legs right that moment, saving him from whatever question that was about to come. Blinking down, he recognized a wild mop of tousled, long brown hair, before a face with big green eyes blinked up, a smile as bright as the sun directed at him. “Uncle Dante!”

Even feeling blindsided as he still was, Dante grinned brightly back, swooping down to lift the little girl up onto his hip. “Well, well, what’s that, princess - did you grow _again?_ You stop that, you hear?”

Elisa giggled, flushing happily, and contented herself with tugging shyly at strands of the silvery hair that had always fascinated her so much.

 

“Nero, where should we put this stuff?” Angelo pushed past Nero into the shop, indicating to yet another, much smaller and lighter, shopping bag that he was carrying. “Uh, hey, Uncle Dante.”

 

“Dante?” Nero’s question was uncharacteristically soft, and Dante knew that this wasn’t going to be a question about where to put groceries, not really.

He opted to _pretend_ it was, though, jamming the thumb of his free hand over his shoulder. “Back there. Just ask Morrison where to put… whatever you have there.”

 

Another quick exchange of glances between Nero and Kyrie – he would have to tell them to stop _doing_ that – before Nero laid his free hand on Angelo’s back, gently steering him forward. “Com’ on.”

“Hey, Elisa, you want to help me look for something to decorate with?” Patty asked right this instant, clearly having the same thought as Nero.

Immediately, the little girl beamed, letting go of Dante’s hair to squirm in his grip instead. He barely had put her back onto her feet before she raced off, following Patty upstairs.

 

Behind him, the kitchen door closed, cutting off the sounds of Morrison greeting Angelo and Nero.

It left Dante in the main room, alone with Kyrie.

Kyrie, who, Dante reflected with wry amusement, was most likely the only one in this colorful bunch who really knew how to _talk_ about things. Smart move of them. Unluckily for her, though, _he_ didn’t share that ability.

 

He turned his back towards her as he walked back over to his desk, absentmindedly and without much plan starting to push the things on top of it from one side to the other as if to bring some order into the mess.

There was silence, only interrupted by the rustling of clothes being taken off as Kyrie turned to hang up her winter gear.

 

Somehow, it was worse that she didn’t start talking immediately, and Dante reverted back to joking. “Well, you guys sure know how to surprise someone.

The rustling slowed, than stopping completely. When she next spoke, Kyrie’s voice was soft, nearly apologetic. “We really thought you knew what today was.”

“Yeah, you just heard it,” he gestured over his head towards the upper floors, crooked smile on his face that wouldn’t quite stay how he wanted it to. “I’m not the best when it comes to remembering dates.”

 

A half-truth would have to work, he supposed, because he didn’t feel like outright lying to her, sweet girl that she was.

(Fact was – he remembered all of the important dates, didn’t need something like a calendar or notes, not usually. He simply preferred to ignore anything that wasn’t the birthday of a friend.)

 

“I’m still sorry.” Kyrie wasn’t so easily distracted, because of course she wasn’t. She didn’t try to get him to turn him around, but continued talking, “I know none of you ever mentioned celebrating the holidays, but when the children started asking where we should celebrate, all of us, I mean, we started asking around…”

Dante slowed, having reached the photo frame he had been working around so diligently. Gingerly, he touched the frame before focusing on the opposite end of the desk, all while listening with one ear to the young woman behind him.

“We asked Lady and Trish about it. They said you all never really celebrated… well, anything, if we don’t count drinking for birthdays,” there was a chuckle, badly hidden, behind those words, and Dante felt his lips twitch against his will. “But they also said there seemed nothing _against_ it, so we kind of…”

“Thought it would alright to drop by?”

“Yes."

 

Dante had finished with the desk top, magazines and guns shoved into the topmost drawer (keeping them away from the children had been the first thing they all had had to learn), a hint of order in his usual messy home.

There was nothing to distract himself with anymore, so his hand traveled back to the photo’s frame almost unbidden, turning it around.

 

Eva smiled back at him as always, a silent joy on her features that he both missed and sometimes could barely stand to see.

(He remembered _every_ important date.

The red shawl she presented here had been a joined Christmas gift from all of them.)

 

Putting the photo back was a gentle affair, even if part of him wanted to slam it down – he could never bring himself to do it. “I didn’t actually think of celebrating today.”

“I’m sorry, Dante.”

“It’s fine, just next-…”

“No, it’s not.”

 

How she managed to sound so firm without being forceful, he would never know, but he closed his mouth obediently nonetheless, for once struck speechless.

When he turned, she stood right in front of him, head held high and jaw set, and he couldn’t help but think that just perhaps, it was exactly this gentle firmness that made her able to stand their combined daily craziness.

 

Seeing his perplexed expression, her own features softened, and Kyrie looked almost sad as she shook her head, despite the tiny smile on her face. “It’s _not_ fine. We should have asked first, before just showing up on your doorstep and pushing this onto you.”

Blowing out a puff of air, he couldn’t help but agree. “Some warning wouldn’t have been too bad. ‘M not too big on surprises.”

At that, she nodded, in understanding or agreement, he wasn’t sure.

 

And despite that, her next question still surprised him yet again.

“Should we leave?”

 

For a moment, the answer seemed easy, right there on the tip of his tongue – yes, please, leave, because he had never planned to celebrate any of this.

But then it slipped right through his grasp, and Dante couldn’t help but think of the way everyone had seemed so damned _chipper_ about this, showing up laden with goods they would need, grinning and smirking and laughing at his perplexed reaction. The excitement radiating from them. The beaming smile little Elisa had given him upon seeing him. The ease with which they moved around him, as if they were comfortable here.

 

_Hadn’t he enjoyed that, once?_

 

Finally, he settled on a rather lame, “You’re already here.”

“And we can leave again,” Kyrie pointed out immediately. “We will just think of a reason to tell the kids – and the others wouldn’t even need to hear a reason, I bet. They would understand.”

For a moment, she looked like as if she wanted to reach for him, perhaps hug him in comfort. He was kind of glad she didn’t, right then. “Dante, it’s your shop, your decision. Say the word, and we leave.”

He opened his mouth to answer-

 

The door to the shop flew open anew, the sounds of heavy boots on wooden floors resounding.

“Yo, can any of you sweethearts probably help me out with getting that tree you ordered off my car, ‘cause…”

 

Nico trailed off as she saw Dante and Kyrie looking at her, both a little aghast. The mechanic blinked, frozen mid-motion, before it clicked. “Oh. I interrupted something, didn’t I?”

“Well…”

“Nico! Did you bring the tree?!” The kitchen door banged open and Angelo bounded out, eyes glittering with excitement.

Nero followed after him, apparently ready to pull the boy back to stop him from interrupting – only to realize that had _already_ happened. Sighing, the youngest half-devil stopped in his tracks, scratching his cheek. “Oh, _great_ timing.”

“Erm, should I come back, like, later?” Nico offered, even while she crouched down to greet the excited boy. “Yeah, bud, I brought the tree. Biggest one I could find.”

“Guys…” Kyrie began, lifting her hands to stop the tumult, her eyes darting quickly over to Dante and away again.

“Great! Nero, can we go get the tree and set it up? Please?”

“Angelo, we…”

 

“Auntie Nico!” An excited squeal was all the warning they got before Elisa came flying down the stairs and straight into a spluttering Nico’s arms.

“Okay, my favorite mini-people are all here, but perhaps we should…”

“Sorry guys, I _swear_ I tried to hold her back,” Patty called from above, appearing on the stairs with an apologetic grimace.

“It’s fine, it’s all cool...”

“Elisa, Nico brought the tree!”

“ _Really?!_ ”

“Um, guys?”

And everybody started to talk over each other once again.

 

It was entirely too _loud_ to think in here, and Dante couldn’t very well tell all of them to leave so that he could have some much needed quiet – not when he wasn’t sure yet if he still wanted them here.

 

So he chose the next best thing, crossing the room to pick his coat from the rack – a rack that was suddenly very crowded with scarfs and jackets, much more than usually – shrugging it on. “I’m gonna go for a walk. Be right back.”

“Dante…”

He wasn’t sure who had called for him, but he shot an overly-bright grin over his shoulder, anyway. “No running away, you hear?”

 

(Asking it, jokingly, even when he was the one doing just that. There was some irony in there, for sure.)

 

He didn’t wait for an answer and brushed past Nico – giving her pat on the shoulder half in greeting, half in goodbye – before ducking out the still open door.

Walking fast enough that, hopefully, nobody would even think about following him right now.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ D ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 _Be right back_ , as it turned out, had been a bit too hopeful on his part. Much too hopeful, to be exact.

 

By the end of his rounds around town, dodging into side streets and alleys to get away from the few streets that were crowded with passersby doing their last shopping before the shops closed for the holidays, Dante wasn’t sure how long he had been out. Only that it had been much longer than he had planned for (not that he had really planned much, at all), that streets were near deserted now since people had other places to be, and that it looked like it was going to rain soon.

 

And wouldn’t _that_ just be the icing on the cake. A big _fuck you_ from the heavens itself, now that was what he needed right now.

 

Not to mention that he still hadn’t come to a decision, Dante mused, sourly, watching yet another shop’s lights go out when the owner left and locked the door behind them.

No matter how many times he turned it over and over in his head, he couldn’t figure out what he wanted to do.

Indecisive.

Not a feeling he was entirely familiar with, being an impulsive guy most of the time, and it was starting to _seriously_ piss him off.

 

He continued on his way, aimlessly walking just to keep moving. By now, even he was starting to feel the cold, the shirt and open coat only doing so much to help his warmer nature out against the winter’s bite.

 

It shouldn’t be that hard, right, he pondered. He preferred a holiday-free life and his quiet shop, it would be easy to turn around and go back to his friends, thank them for the idea, but they would just have to find a different place to celebrate. Without him.

Then again, what exactly was there to say against some nice food, freely offered, in a warm home, with people around that he actually liked? Most people would have called him crazy for walking out on that, he supposed, for even thinking about ditching that.

But most people knew how to celebrate. Especially celebrate _Christmas_ , something meant to be spent with family and loved ones.

 

When did he last _have_ that?

 

Well, he did remember the last Christmas he had celebrated… He could feel it like a warm blanket wrapped around him, taste it on the tip of his tongue, hear it as if spoken right into his ear, every time he so much let his mind wander towards it.

 

_The entire house had smelled of cinnamon, sugar and chocolate, nearly proving too much for their sharp senses. Vergil had wrinkled his nose over it sometimes, after the first few days, but Dante hadn’t been able to get enough of it, soaking in deep lungful’s of air until he got dizzy._

_Mum had shooed them out of the living room, insisting that it was necessary to keep them from peeking both at the tree and the presents – especially the presents. Dante had been torn between going outside and play and staying in and probably get bored. It had been Vergil who pointed out that any sneak-peeks at presents and tree were more likely to happen when they stayed inside – the proposal, of course, not made because his twin wasn’t exactly looking forward to getting pelted with snowballs by Dante again._

_Imagine their surprise when instead of managing to get a peek at what was supposed to be a surprise, they were the first ones to get to see their father come in through the doors of their home, boots still crusted with snow and looking tired yet happy, gesturing at them to keep quiet before making his way to the living room without much sound._

_Dante had liked that year’s Christmas the most of all for the loud, delighted laughter Mum gave when her husband had surprised her by making it home on time._

Then the memory turned, sharp and sudden and wholly unwanted.

 

_Burning wood and ashes instead of cinnamon, the iron stench of fresh blood instead of sugar and chocolate. There was no laughter that night, only screams and cries, no twin at his side, only loneliness, no father who made it home on time but instead the ever-looping thought of “Where are you, why are you not here, help us-“_

_And he would never see Mum laugh again…_

**_Enough!_ **

Dante shook his head resolutely, gnashing his teeth until the painful twinge in his jaw chased away the last remnants of _that_ particular dream-turned-nightmare.

 

He stood, breathing deliberately slow in and out to get control over himself again. Just beneath his skin, heat crawled, crackled, ready to react to his inner turmoil and break free. But it wasn’t needed right now, since the only thing he would need defending from was his own mind. The energy wouldn’t find an outlet – there was nothing to go against, no demons to distract him, no foes to rip apart, no opponent to rile up with sharp quips.

There was just the empty park he had mindlessly strolled into around him, and the dark of the night falling slowly.

And a rumbling voice cutting through silence and thoughts alike.

 

“If you plan to be a brooding asshole for longer, then do it someplace else.”

 

Dante jolted, one hand flying instinctively to Rebellion’s hilt while the other dropped to his trusted guns, all while he turned in one smooth motion.

Both hands came up empty.

He actually hadn’t thought of taking his weapons with him, first safe at home where he didn’t need weapons, then, after, too deep in thought to remember grabbing them on the way out.

 

_Great. Beginner’s mistake._

 

His oversight had led to a brief pause that, in any real fight, would have meant him either getting gobbled down or impaled for the thousandth time.

This time, it didn’t happen (thankfully; he did like this shirt) and Dante breathed out slowly, measuredly, taking the time to really _look_ who had managed to sneak up on him like that.

 

The stranger who had addressed him sat on the bench nearest to him as leisurely as he pleased - legs splayed out, one broad arm stretched out over the backrest, jute bag that seemed ready to rip at the seams dropped next to him onto the bench. The cigar dangling from the fingers of his other hand seemed strangely misplaced with the way he was dressed in a Santa Claus-costume (neatly done, right down to a fake beard that seemed much too fluffy to be put on such a chiseled face) as were the broad goldrings glinting on each finger, or the tattoos swirling over his dark skin. For some odd reason, he was still wearing sunglasses despite the sun having vanished behind clouds long ago.

 

Well, whatever Dante had expected – it certainly wasn’t Santa Claus, that was for sure. Even if it was probably the oddest Santa he had ever encountered.

But odd or not, nothing about the guy seemed anything unnatural – his senses didn’t pick up anything other than _human_. Just another guy without a place to celebrate this day, then.

 

Having noticed Dante’s gaze, the stranger waved his hand around, cigar-tip glinting in the dim light. Indicating towards the empty park, most likely. “Was here first, after all. Only brooding allowed here is mine own.”

Something about the way the man said it, an unfamiliar drawl and lilt to his every word, made Dante scoff much more angrily than he had intended to, near defensive. “Geez, sorry about that, Father Christmas. I will be out of your hair in a second.”

He continued on – ignoring the heat under his skin once again, _wrong place and time_ – fully intending to just chuck this up to some random guy running his mouth. Not his problem, right.

 

“Just in case ain’t anybody told ya yet, kiddo”, the voice called out behind him again, something daunting and scathing in it that made Dante’s hackle rise immediately, “Heard today’s one of the evenings that’s perfect to sit in a nice warm home with some nice warm food, getting hammered with friends. Ya really wanna miss out on that one?”

 

Dante stopped sharply, turning back around as slowly as he could manage. “Says the guy who is sitting out in the cold all alone.”

There was still anger pulsing in his veins like fire, the urge to _fight-rip-tear_ until the adrenaline born of indecision and picking at old wounds would ran out, and this stranger was, for some reason he didn’t quite understand, really pushing his every button right there.

 

If the guy noticed that he was being glared daggers at, he didn’t show it. A shrug of those broad shoulders, then a flash of snow-white teeth. “I got everythin’ I need here.”

As if for proof, he let the cigar roll between his fingers, letting it tilt dangerously, but never fall. “Can ya say the same, kiddo?”

 

Dante opened his mouth to retort -

 

_“Should we leave?”_

 

\- and closed it, slowly. Suddenly feeling more tired than angry.

 

A thoughtful hum turned into rumbling chuckles, accompanied by puffs of smoke. “Thought so. Look, kid, I got my own shit to worry about ‘ere-…”

Not tired enough for _this_ , though. Dante rolled his eyes at the other. “Then how about you go take care of that, _Santa?_ ”

“… but all I see ‘ere is a fucking idiot running in circles like a headless chicken,” the other continued. “And that’s fucking distracting me from my nice cigar ‘ere, so I would say you scamper home an’ make yerself a nice quiet evening like we all should be allowed to sometimes. Ya know, instead of breathing away my air.”

 

And Dante, who had been right ready to either blow up at the guy or just turn around and keep walking until he stumbled over a conveniently placed demon’s nest that he could use to let off some steam… just fell silent.

 

Because even though he hadn’t mean to pay full attention to the other’s speech (he still couldn’t stand people who talked more than himself), some tiny detail had actually caught his attention, making his ever-circling thoughts fall into place.

This feeling of being haunted, of not knowing which path to follow… it wasn’t simply about wanting to be alone, or to be surrounded by friends this evening.

 

He wasn’t sure if he should be allowed to _have_ this.

What he once had called family, the people he had celebrated every Christmas including the last with, were gone. They weren’t here anymore to celebrate _anything_.

So why was he? Why should _he_ be allowed to have this, when _they_ didn’t?

 

_Do I deserve this?_

 

With a mutter that sounded like “ _Oh fuck’s sake_ ”, the stranger rapped his knuckles against the wooden bench, hard, the clacking of rings against wood making Dante blink and look up sharply. “Bullshit, kid. Ya wanna know something about _deserving_? Well, then lemme tell you - the thing about deserving is that it ain’t on _us_ to decide what we deserve for _ourselves_.”

With a gesture that seemed to encompass everything around them, the man continued, “Sure, ya can go right ahead and imagine what you _think_ you deserve, but in the end? It’s some other jackass who dishes out for you, be it punishment, or reward. Only thing ya can do is fight against it… or take it.”

 

The hand still waving the cigar around stopped, suddenly pointing at Dante as if to impale him with a single finger. “You sure know how to whine about all the _bad_ stuff – but say life actually gives ya somethin’ _good_ for once –then what, you gonna be a dick about it and walk away from it? Walk out into the cold to rather chat it up with a random guy out on the street?! Who knows when that chance you ditched is gonna come again!

Nah, don’t know about _you_ , kiddo,” the man huffed, scratching his bald head so that he almost knocked the hat off, “but if it were, for once, a reward being dished out to _me_ , Hell fucking knows I wouldn’t be _running_ from it.”

 

A cold gust of wind cut through the park, bringing the scent of snow with it. The cigar’s light flickered and then went out, all the swishing around and cold air too much for it.

The other cursed under his breath, momentarily distracted, and flicked his fingers – the ember started burning anew in a burst, smoke rising from the tip when he took a new drag of it.

“Not to mention,” he growled around the end of the cigar, letting out a plume of smoke through his nostrils that reflected the tiny light of the cigar’s tip in a way that looked like Hellfire itself, “Not to mention what yer folks would say about seeing ya run away from something good.”

 

The words hit home, as if kicking a door open that had been long-since closed, and Dante remembered-

 

_Mum laughing aloud when father swung her around in a tight hug in greeting. Vergil huffing a tiny laugh when Dante pulled a face over the embarrassing display. The snorts of his twin when Dante shoved an empty carton over his head for the betrayal. The joined laughter of his entire family when Dante picked Mum’s and father’s present open – half-expecting his father’s joined-in effort to have ruined a good present – only to find a book about different types of guns and a tiny model to practice taking it apart and reassembling it with._

_“Are you happy, Dante?”_

Seamlessly, the memories shifted again – but instead of the nightmare that usually followed, it went on without a hitch –

 

_The way Lady would groan with a grin on her face and roll her eyes to the heavens when he was just too much again. Trish bumping shoulders with him when came back from a battle, smile on her face. Morrison patting his back in passing before they were on their way to the next job. Patty slamming into him for a hug and then instantly berating him for not calling when he came home later than anticipated. The barely there laugh Nero gave when Dante joked about something before reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. The warmth of Kyrie’s hugs that she distributed so freely and gladly. The gleam in Nico’s eyes when she excitedly told him about her newest invention that he was supposed to try out. V constantly failing to hide his amused smirk over their antics behind the book he was reading right then. The children climbing all over him, asking for more stories._

Dante stood, thunderstruck, as he suddenly wondered why the _heck_ he was out here, in the cold, when…

 

“ _Now_ you got it. Hurry on home, kid, go on,” a puff of smoke, a laugh that seemed to come from the deepest depths. “Who knows how long they are still gonna be there?”

 

But Dante wasn’t even listening anymore, he had already turned around and was walking – no, nearly running – in the direction he had come from.

Fervently hoping the whole time that his friends had understood, and actually stayed where they were.

 

Rodin was left behind alone. He scoffed, finally taking off the offending Santa hat, and waved it after the retreating figure in the distance. “Ain’t that just beautiful. No, no need to thank ol’ Rodin. Yer _welcome_ , kiddo. Didn’t have anything _better_ to do. Really, who taught him those manners? His _Dad?_ ”

 

Snickering to himself as if over a private joke, Rodin took another satisfying drag of his cigar, letting the smoke roll slowly out from between his lips while he leaned his head back. Now talking directly to the heavy clouds above and to whoever might be listening, he grumbled, only slightly pacified,

 

“Yer lucky I don’t like debts, no matter if I owe ‘em to dead ones, Eva.”


	2. Bright spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dante comes home at last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was really, really supposed to be a Christmas present for everyone, but somehow it became a near-mid-January present? Anyway, enjoy it, guys! =D

Seeing his shop ablaze with light even from afar was both a distinctly unusual and a reliving thing for Dante when he turned the last corner.

It just meant his mood had not been taken the worst way possible.

 

_“Who knows how long they are still gonna be there?”_

 

He slowed down to a walk while he tugged his coat more snuggly around himself, a sad barrier against the wind that had started to pick up, smelling like snow. He was not yet close enough to see through the merrily lit windows, but he spotted Lady’s motorcycle near the stairs and Nico’s van opposite the building – without any tree strapped to the roof – so he figured they had just decided to wait out his return.

 

Which was… a lot. More than a large part of him had expected, jogging – alright, _maybe_ running – the way back here.

The thought managed to warm him more than his too-thin clothes.

 

Caught up in his musings as he was, he was already halfway up the steps to the front door when he noticed someone leaning against the wall next to it, almost vanishing in the shadows of the doorframe. He slowed, faltering in his steps, before he shrugged it off and greeted the younger. “Isn’t it a bit too cold to stay outside like that, V?”

 

“Says he who stayed outside for hours,” V’s smile was nearly as pale as its owner, but genuine. He shifted enough that the light from inside illuminated him, leaning heavily on his cane. “And who is the reason I am out here in the first place.”

“Oh? You were looking for me?”

“Griffon was… _supposed_ to do that.”

“Hey now, I don’t like that tone of voice,” Griffon protested as he fluttered out from the shadows above them, dark feathers fluffing up in protest. Nestling on V’s shoulder, he grumbled, “I found him. He just outran me on the way back here.”

“Supposed to,” V repeated evenly, ignoring the indignant squawk from his shoulder. His gaze wandered over the dark streets until it returned to Dante, green eyes scanning him. “You… worried a few people, it might seem.”

 

Dante nearly grimaced at that. Nearly. He had more control over his expressions than that, and he was not about to let Griffon tease him for his laps in control “Who else went looking?”

“Nero was out looking for you. Griffon informed him on the way back here” V tilted his head towards the demon bird, who nodded in return. “But everyone else is still inside.”

Dante hummed in understanding. It didn’t sit right with him that he had started such a commotion, but there was no way to change anything about that now. He would just have to make sure it didn’t happen again.

 

He continued on towards the door, looking forward to warming up and finally relaxing a bit. Only that V made no move to follow him, giving him pause. “V?”

The younger was frowning down at his cane, twirling it between his hands while he seemed to ponder something.

Finally, just when Dante was ready to just go inside and leave it be, he spoke up.

 

“Should I leave?”

 

It took a moment for Dante to process what he had just heard, and when he did, he directed a questioning gaze upwards to the low hanging clouds. “Why does everyone _ask_ me that today?”

“Well, _maybe_ …” Griffon started out, sharp sarcasm tinging every word, but fell silent again – thankfully - when Dante cut him off with a hand gesture.

“Right, feather-face, I get the _why_ for the first time. Why do _you_ ask, though?”

The question was directed at V, who now showed a keen interest in his cane, long hair shielding most of his expression but the wry smile tugging at his lips.

A squeeze of sharp claws digging into his shoulder that could have been warning or encouragement or both, and the young man sighed faintly before answering. “I did attempt to kill you once, Dante.”

 

Waiting a beat to see if anything was going to be added to that, Dante was almost perplexed when that didn’t happen. He flapped a hand at V, but turned to his winged companion as he spoke, “Is he going to say anything else? Something that I don’t already know, perhaps?”

“Tried to tell him that he couldn’t expect you to take that seriously,” Griffon spread his wings in what seemed to be his kind of a shrug. “But does he ever listen to me? _No_.”

“Most people might not react kindly… to someone who almost murdered them,” V spoke up, voice and expression void of all emotions.

Or at least they would have been, if the younger hadn’t gone through Hell and back together with all of them. By now, Dante was pretty sure he could pick out the slightest hitch in the words, the tiniest of tremors, giving him away.

 

_Oh, for crying out loud…_

Not sure if to laugh or to roll his eyes, Dante shook his head and clapped his hand down onto V’s free shoulder, making him jump. “Nah, kid, _you’re_ missing the part where half of the people in this very shop have already tried to kill me before you even came along.”

One quick look to the side, and he added brightly, “And yes, the birds present are included.”

Griffon let out his grating laugh, which sounded like a scratching caw.

The tiniest shift, and V looked carefully up at him, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You are saying that as if there is nothing unusual about it.”

“Eh. It’s old news. Actually surprised when there’s no bullets or swords involved in any greeting at this point,” Dante smirked when V huffed a quiet laugh at that, before using his grip on the younger to steer him towards the door. “And now stop standing on my doorstep like a sad lost puppy, I want to get inside and get something to eat.”

“Hear hear, best plan I’ve heard all day.”

 

Pushing the heavy door open lead to warm air and light enveloping them as they stepped inside, and Dante quietly appreciated being able to close the door and seal the cold out behind himself. No way he was gonna step outside again this evening.

 

He wasn’t really sure what he had expected upon his return. An empty shop had been the worst case scenario, if he was fully honest with himself. Having everything ready for a party, as if he _hadn’t_ stormed out, had also been somewhere up there on the list.

What greeted him now was neither of those options, and he was both glad and a bit confused for it. There was no crowd of his friends occupying his shop, nor any decoration that Patty had all but threatened him with. Only a fir tree, still half wrapped in plastic, was leaning against the wall in the far corner, an array of colorful packages shoved next to it on one side, a few plain carton boxes on the other side.

 

And Morrison and Patty were seated on the couch, looking up when they heard the door. Patty’s face brightened, eyes glittering with joy, as she spotted them entering. “There you are, Dante!”

“Hey there, kid,” he couldn’t help but smile back, truly smile, (still here _, still here,_ because they were too stubborn to leave him, didn’t _want_ to leave him) and she all but beamed at him in answer.

When her gaze wandered past him, however, the smile fell, morphing into a frown. “V, did you go outside in _that_ outfit again?”

V cast a quick look down himself – sleeveless, coat hanging open over his shoulders, sandals – before looking up with a wary expression, already dreading what was to come. “Only for a moment?”

Patty’s eye-roll was remarkably expressive, just as the sharp look that followed. “And you absolutely didn’t freeze your ass off, of course.”

 

“Uhoh, here comes the lecture,” Griffon announced, flapping his wings to lift off his friend’s shoulder. His silhouette wavered, becoming blurry as feathers turned to liquid and flesh became ink. “Every man and bird for himself now, boys, I’m out.”

“You…!” V muttered a curse under his breath that was uncharacteristically vicious. It made Dante actually snicker out loud while he stepped away, clear out of the line of fire.

“ _Language_. I just don’t wanna get dragged into this, Shakespeare,” was the last thing the demon had to say before his very being turned into new lines of ink on V’s skin and his voice drifted off.

 

“What is it with you people and not taking care of yourself?” Patty sighed deeply, climbing over the backrest of the couch. Determinedly strutting over to the Christmas tree shoved into the corner, she crouched, dragging one of the presents out from under the lowest branches. “Here, open this one, V. There’s a blanket in it.”

Even with his reflexes, V barely managed to catch the light package as she threw it his way. “… Thank you? But I cannot simply…”

“It’s yours, you dork. I was going to give it to you, anyway. Now open it.”

“I did not…”

“V, open it, before I do it myself and smother you with the blanket while I’m at it.”

 

Dante chuckled, shaking his head as the squabbling continued and the two of them completely forgot about him in the meantime. He ducked past them, directing his steps over to the couch where Morrison was still sitting, looking as comfortable as one could be.

The broker tilted his head back to smile at the younger when Dante threw his coat over the backrest, holding out an already opened beer for him. “Took you a while.”

Dante accepted the bottle with a nod, hiding his grin behind it. He was not really surprised by how matter-of-fact that had sounded. Someone who could wait for him for years while still running his shop in his absence, could easily wait for him for a few hours to come around. “You didn’t even put the decorations up while I was gone?”

“Hmmm,” Morrison took the bottle back when Dante handed it over, following the hint to the empty Christmas tree. There was a smile hidden in the corner of his mouth when he turned back. “Couldn’t be sure what would happen if we put too many festive things up.”

“What - did you expect me to come back and burn it down on a rampage?”

“That, or Lady doing the same if we overdid it with the clichés.”

The chuckle bursting out of Dante was wholly unexpected even for himself, and he coughed for a moment, faltering, before he managed to swallow and then breathe again. “Fair enough. The others?”

“Nero’s still out, Trish is doing who-knows-what as usual. Most of the others are in the kitchen, making dinner,” Morrison’s eyes crinkled as he nodded over to the kitchen door, something in his gaze saying _Go on._

Dante hummed in understanding, already turning away.

 

If he reached over and squeezed Morrison’s shoulder in parting, as tightly as he dare to, then – well. The others were still occupied and thoroughly distracted, and the gesture went as unseen as the answering pat of the arm that Morrison gave him. Just as the smiles on both of their faces.

 

Entering the kitchen, Dante mused that he really hadn’t been in here all too often – he was actually surprised how many people and things fit into this room.

There was the muttering of voices mixed into the noise of someone cooking a right feast, but he ignored that for now, stopping right after his first step into the kitchen. Closing his eyes, he let all the sensations wash over him for a moment.

The sizzling of things frying in pans and the hiss of boiling water and the clatter of kitchenware. The smell of spices and sugar, oil and fat, roasted meat and self-made dough and freshly cut vegetables. The sound of talking and giggles and people bustling about.

 

_He waited for a beat, expecting the memories to come rushing back, but it didn’t happen. They were still there, a notion of cinnamon-sugar-spice and everything connected to it, but he didn’t feel overwhelmed by it._

_It was different enough to be new._

_It was familiar enough to feel like home._

“Dante!”

 

He opened his eyes again, smile curling around his lips as he noticed he had been spotted.

 

Kyrie was holding her flour covered hands awkwardly to the side before realizing it, clapping them down against her apron to dust them off. “Oh, I’m glad you’re back, we were already starting to worry… not that you need any help, usually, so there’s that, of course. I hope you don’t mind we took over your kitchen? We figured, you know, celebrating or not, you wouldn’t say _No_ to some dinner and perhaps it would cheer you up-….”

She was rambling. Dante supposed that had to do with how he had left, and the worry and guilt on her face when she had asked if they should leave.

It was understandable, but absolutely unnecessary.

He had already lost too much time with worrying over what to do.

 

Stepping forward, Dante huffed a laugh when Kyrie’s words tapered off in surprise, not exactly giving her time to recover before carefully but resolutely drawing her into a one-armed hug.

He more felt than saw her breath catch, her frame going stiff in surprise against him for the slightest bit – before she responded enthusiastically, throwing both of her arms around him to hold on tight.

“Welcome back.” The word were quiet yet fervently whispered against his shoulder. Making him tighten his grip just the slightest bit.

If there was a good way to tell her all the conflicting things he felt, all the gratitude laced through it, with few or no words at all, then he didn’t know it. So he did the only thing he knew to do - holding on, allowing himself to linger for a second.

Once she stepped back, clearing her throat and smiling at him, he pretended not to see the wet glistening in the corner of her eyes.

 

“D’awwww, you guys are really cute sometimes.”

 

Kyrie burst into laughter beside him, barely restraining herself with a hand covering her mouth. Dante, meanwhile, turned towards their audience at the kitchen table with his arms spread out wide. “Excuse me? Kyrie, perhaps, but I’m _clearly_ too handsome to be cute.”

“Nope,” Nico shook her head, pointing with the fork in her hand for emphasis. “Cute and handsome doesn’t cancel each other out. No getting out of this one, mate.”

With a faked groan, Lady shoved the younger woman with her elbow. “Don’t encourage him any more, it’s a miracle his ego even fits through the door as it is.”

“I mean, does it matter anymore? He encourages himself anyway.”

“I do so hate when you’re _right_ about things like that,” Lady grumbled, helping herself to something from one of the plates. Nico simply snorted, shrugging good naturedly before joining her.

 

The gesture drew Dante’s attention to the various plates and dishes standing around on every available surface, dishes among it that he hadn’t even seen or heard about before, and he whistled through his teeth. “You outdid yourself on these, Kyrie.”

“Oh, I didn’t do much,” the young woman waved it off while turning towards the stove again. “I had lots of help!”

“Yeah, we helped!” Angelo declared, looking up. He was kneeling before the oven, watching it intently. “Kyrie, I think it’s preheated now.”

“Thank you, Angelo. Careful, get away there, it’s hot!”

“Is that pizza I spot there?” Dante leaned over her shoulder as Kyrie balanced the gigantic tray past him.

“Right in one. We have pizza, roasted meat, vegetables, fries…,” she nodded at the kitchen as she put the pizza into the oven. “There should be more than enough for everyone, and for different tastes, too.”

“Well, I do know that _this_ fits _my_ taste,” he informed her with a smirk, reaching out to test some of the topping, cold or not.

Yet for all his superior reflexes, Kyrie proved herself to be fully capable of being faster than him when it counted. Like now, when she shut the oven door right in front of his nose, thwarting any further stealing attempts. All huffing noises didn’t help there. She laughed straight in his face when she turned and found him pouting at her. “Shoo, you! You will ruin your appetite like this!”

“Lady and Nico are eating, too,” Dante pointed accusingly over to the girls, who were indeed chewing on something. Nico waved at him, unrepentant, while Lady flipped him off with wicked glee written all over her face, muttering through a mouthful, “’Cause we helped _make_ the food.”

“You just got an excuse for _everything_ , don’t you.”

 

Still giggling, Kyrie patted Dante’s arm soothingly. “Don’t worry, you will get to eat as much as you want soon enough. Just a little while more.”

Shuffling sounded, and Angelo popped up between them, looking at them curiously. “Then, can we put up the Christmas tree in the meantime?”

“Tree!” Elisa joined her brother, peering over his shoulder.

“Well, I suppose,” Kyrie started hesitantly, looking from the children to Dante for approval. “If you get someone to help you with it…”

“ _Dante_ can help us!”

The conviction in that statement made Dante raise a questioning eyebrow. “Why, do I have to _work_ for my food now?”

Angelo looked dumbfounded for a second, then flushed as he realized how he had made that sound. Shuffling his feet, the boy scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, that’s not what I…I mean…”

 

The awkward gesture reminded Dante strongly of a certain nephew of his, and it took quite a lot to hold back his laughter at the sight. He very barely managed and instead upheld the offended look just long enough to see Angelo waver some more, before he dropped the act and shrugged with a crooked grin. “Relax, I’m messing with ya. Sure, let’s do that.”

“Wait, really?!”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead.”

“ _Awesome!”_

With loud cheers, the children stormed past him out the kitchen, leaving him behind with ringing ears and wondering how none of their caretakers had gone deaf by now.

“Are you alright with that?” Kyrie caught his raised eyebrow and added. “Decorating, I mean.”

“I will manage,” he shrugged again as he strolled towards the door. “I know the colorful stuff is supposed to go on the tree, the rest should be child’s play.”

“Not what she meant!” Nico called after him as he made to close the door behind himself.

“Oh, I think he knows-…”

The door fell closed, cutting the rest of that conversation off. They would figure it out, he was sure.

 

Elisa was already busy trying to drag one of the carton boxes from under tree. The thing was approximately her size… and seemingly also the same weight, if the fact that it didn’t budge an inch was anything to go by. Dante snorted as he caught sight of it. Two quick steps and he lifted the whole box up with one hand, laughing as she pouted up at him. “Woah, princess, let me do the heavy lifting. Where do I put this?”

“So we _are_ putting up the tree now?” Patty stood from the couch and came over, appraising the tree as she went. “You will have to get this thing into the stand first before you can put anything on it.”

“Oh, Nero said we should leave that to the adults,” Angelo commented, looking up from the box he had ripped open, tinsel and garlands in his hands.

 

“You guys talking about me behind my back?”

Nero stepped into the shop, dragging a hand through his hair and kicking the door shut without even looking back. The hard lines of his mouth eased as his gaze swept over the people present and caught on Dante. Inclining his head in the barest nod, he carried on. “And you started without me, too. Rude.”

 

“I would say you’re late,” Dante replied, imitating a mocking salute with his free hand, “But then I would have admit that that was, a tiny bit, my fault, so I will keep my mouth shut.”

“Right, old man,” there was laughter in Nero’s eyes, even as he shook his head. “ _You_ don’t get to talk.”

“Ah, silence. Not my strong suit.”

“And don’t we know _that_ all too well,” that dry comment earned Patty a glower, and she stuck out her tongue in return. “I’m right and you know it. And stop playing around with that box, you’re going to drop it.”

“What, this thing?” Throwing the box in his hand up, Dante caught it again with a smirk. “And me dropping it? Why, I would never _… whoops._ ”

The box tilted while he was spinning it on one finger, tilting dangerously to the horrified gasps of the people close to it.

Before too much could happen, Dante caught it, easily balancing it out with a grin on his face and mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “See? As if I would drop it. Pffff.”

“You...!” Patty shot him a look so dark it could have made a higher demon take cover, before she snorted and burst out laughing. “Dork.”

“Okay kids, no more playing with the breakable things,” Morrison declared, walking up behind Dante to snatch the box from his grip, despite all his protests. “Work first, then the fun.”

“Yeah, let’s put the tree up already!” Angelo demanded. “We were waiting forever!”

“Right, right. V, get over here, help me with this thing.”

The order made the young man sitting on the couch jump under his new blanket. Blinking in surprise, he pointed at himself. “Me? I don’t know how to…”

“It’s easy, I will show you. Come on.”

“Alright…”

 

Considering Morrison distracted enough, Dante ducked to the side and peered into the nearest box of decoration. Jackpot –ornaments and more garlands and tinsel. That, he could surely work with.

“That grin only means trouble.”

“No idea what you mean,” Dante told Nero when the younger stepped up next to him, batting his eyelashes at him for good measure.

The younger snorted, the corner of his mouth twitching up as he crouched down beside him. “Right.”

Dante almost _felt_ it coming, in the way the younger shifted next to him, tensing and relaxing as if preparing for something. So when Nero made to say something, he wasn’t even surprised.

“Don’t ask me if I’m alright now, Nero,” Dante interrupted him, low enough that nobody with human senses could hear it, his smile just softening the words enough to make it teasing. “That would be _so_ out of character.”

Nero closed his mouth again, just looking at him for a moment. Then a flicker went over his face – the tiniest hint of a smile, something softening around his eyes – before he turned his head away, smirk in his voice as he spoke up. “Should I insult you instead?”

“I would be _honored_ if you did,” he assured the younger, pressing a hand to his chest for emphasis. “Do your worst.”

“Ugh. Can you stop being weird for just _five minutes-.._.”

“Kid, com’ on, do you really think I can?”

“Right, I forgot - that’s asking too much of you.”

“Uh-huh, see, you’re starting to understand me. There’s hope for you yet.”

The glare sent his way lacked any real seriousness due to the badly hidden smile: Nero did his best to cover it up by jabbing his elbow into the older man’s side, huffing a little in satisfaction when he got a pained grunt for his troubles.

Dante simply grinned into the box he was still digging through, content to work in companionable silence for a while.

 

Until he discovered a handful of tinsel strands that were _just_ the exact same shade of silver Nero’s hair was in this lightning, and, in a burst of inspiration, held it up for inspection. “Hey, kid, look at that – I found your lost hair!”

Nero made a weirdly choked sound that could have been suppressed laughter or him gagging in disgust, spluttering, “Wha-…oh _funny_ , old man. Haha.”

Dante started straight up _cackling_ at the look on the younger’s face, flopping to the side not too gracefully. Still sniggering, he half-heartedly tried to shove Nero off of him when the other punched him in the shoulder – hard – and then pretended to shove him head-first into the nearest box.

He broke down in laughter all over again when he managed to throw some of the tinsel in Nero’s direction during the scuffle, considering the outcome of it a full success. “No, wait, hold on, let me put this stuff on you, you look so _pretty_ with it!”

“You know what? _Fuck you_.”

“Aha, that’s one for the swear jar!”

“I don’t even _care_.”

 

Morrison sighed deeply, trying and failing to hide a smile as the silliness seemed to spread and infect the others – Patty dropped her work long enough to throw a garland around V’s shoulder, startling the young man, and Angelo held an bauble to his ear like an earring to see Elisa burst into giggles.

“Children, the whole lot of you.”

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ D ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

The tree was alright, Dante supposed.

 

Leaning just a bit too much to one side, maybe. And it was also possible that the garlands were to be put up _first_ , not _last_ so that they covered a few of the ornaments. Not to mention that ornaments were, perhaps, usually, supposed to fit together, not like _these_ ones. Obviously someone out of the group had gone and bought them without checking for colors or if it fit together, so those that they had used were simple-colored in red, blue and violet, with a few sticking out with glitter and gaudy pictures on them

 

But it was a Christmas tree, and it was standing, and there were ornaments on it. Nothing had burned down, nothing had gone wrong like it happened so many times to all of them. Dante supposed that was as good as they could hope for.

And maybe, just maybe, there was also the fact that he was still breathless from laughing and arguing and bantering with the people who had helped set the tree up.

 

Nero carefully pushed one presents back under the tree after helping Angelo to try and figure out what was in it for the boy this Christmas. Patty was still teary-eyed from laughing over their antics the whole time. V somehow still had tinsel sticking to his clothes and hair because Patty plus the children had ganged up on him and decided he needed at least some decoration to brighten his looks – not his mood, per se, since he had spent the first few minutes glowering at them before cracking, joining in on their laughter with quiet chuckles on his own. Elisa looked ready to fall asleep on the spot where she was balanced on Morrison’s hip with Angelo ruffling her hair affectionately.

Dante himself had only just successfully managed to unwind most of the extra garlands that someone had tried to decorate him with (or strangle; he wasn’t too sure) from around his neck when loud laughter started up in his back.

 

“Did you guys try to decorate each other instead of the tree?”

 

Trish smirked at them, looking as put together and elegant as ever, especially in stark contrast to the mess they had made. A small white box balanced on her hips, she nodded towards those who still had glitter and more stuck to them, residue laughter dancing in her eyes as everyone starting patting themselves off with mixed mutters of defense and embarrassment.

 

Instead of trying to save his dignity, Dante sniffed archly and threw the last garland over his shoulder much like a fancy scarf. “What, you don’t think we look perfectly Christmas-y for the event?”

“More like perfectly idiotic. Blue isn’t your color, Dante,” she plucked the offending garland from his grasp and threw it carelessly over her shoulder. It landed neatly over the rack by the door. She assessed him one more time, eyes crinkling and lips quivering while she tried to look serious. “Hm. The glitter can stay, I think.”

“Huh. Didn’t notice the glitter.”

“Hardly believable – there is more than enough. Anyway,” she held up the box, balancing it on the tips of her fingers. “Where is this supposed to go?”

 

“Dessert?” Morrison asked, immediately taking a step forward when she nodded. “Let me…”

“Let me,” interrupted V quietly, stopping the older man with one outstretched arm. He nodded towards the dozing girl in his arms, smiling slightly. “You have your hands full.”

“True,” Morrison huffed a laugh, hosting the sleepy girl higher up in his grasp. “Hey, princess, wanna take a break until dinner is ready?”

“Mmmmmh,” Elisa muttered something unintelligible before turning, burrowing deeper into him.

“I will take that as a yes.”

“Say hello before you both fall asleep on me,” Trish gracefully handed the box over to V before pressing a peck to Morrison’s cheek, laughing. “There we go. Go take your nap now.”

“Like the old man I am.”

“That’s what you said.”

“No, that’s what my back is telling me,” Morrison grumbled while he stomped over to the couch, falling into it heavily while rubbing his lower back with his free hand. “Aw heck…”

 

Joining into the general bout of laughter that elicited, Dante reached for the kitchen door to hold it open for V when the younger passed by him with a muttered thanks.

There wasn’t even time to turn back around to the others before Trish was there, throwing an arm over his shoulders and humming thoughtfully while she leaned closer to scan his expression.

“Not that I’m against cuddling, mind you” Dante wrapped his own arm around her waist – the closest to a hug the two of them would probably get while being sober and unharmed – and smirked back at her “But did you want something specific?”

“You’re not going Ebenezer Scrooge on us?” Trish’s smile was teasing, eyebrow cocked questioningly. “I’m almost disappointed.”

“Do I even want to know why you’re familiar with that story? And I had my grouchy moment already. You missed it. Which is a shame, if you ask me - I was great.”

 

That answer didn’t satisfy her, frown tugging at her features. Of course it did not, he thought with no little amusement, because this was _Trish_ , and if anyone had _always_ seen right through his attempts of defending himself with sarcasm, it was her. Pot calling the kettle black, and all that.

So when understanding dawned on her face and her smirk turned into a wide smile, he mostly resigned himself to whatever was to come.

“And yet, you’re here. All _Christmas-y,”_ patting over his hair and showing him the leftover glitter on her hand for good measure, she winked at him. “You’re starting to warm up to this.”

Dante wrinkled his nose at her. “Bah, humbug.”

Trish gave a laugh and shook her head. “I’m _serious_. I’m glad you’re enjoying this so much.”

“Serious, you? I think the whole Christmas cheer is getting to you.”

But it all didn’t help. She simply laughed even harder, pressing a peck to his cheek before slipping out of his hold with a last parting pat to his shoulder.

For once, he was actually glad she had left him alone instead of trying to get the last word. Else he would have probably ended up admitting out loud that he _was_ , in fact, enjoying this, and there was absolutely no reason to affirm to her just how often she was right.

 

The kitchen door next to him opened up with an audible banging sound and Nico waltzed into the room, balancing a tray. “Out of the way, watch it, dinner is coming through!” She declared loudly while heading towards the pool table, holding her load high over her head as she went.

When she put down the tray – carrying a varieties of vegetables meant as a side dish – resolutely down on top of the table, Dante raised an eyebrow. “The pool table? Really?”

“You don’t exactly _have_ any tables with space for more than two people,” Lady reminded him while pushing past him, carrying a plate of her own. “We are making due. Trish! There you are! Get over here, you need to try those thingies Nico brought. They are awesome. What are they called?”

“ _Latkes_. After a receipt from my Grandma!” Nico informed her, grinning proudly. “A hit at every party.”

“Well, I can’t say No to that, can I,” Trish chuckled, moving over to the pool table where Lady waved one of the treats at her in a mocking replica of a _Come hither_ motion.

 

That seemed to be the unspoken signal to take a seat for everyone, and the enticing smell of dinner made sure nobody even thought twice about it. In a joined effort, the entire collection of chairs in the shop and even the couch itself were dragged closer so everyone could sit. Plates were handed around, wishes for drinks were voiced, and seats were exchanged until everybody had found a place and a drink.

 

In retrospect, Dante couldn’t even tell how, but at some point he ended up in a chair between Lady and V, strategically placed nice and close to the pizza.

“Hey, scroogey McScrooge, mind handing me the Eggnog over there?” Lady elbowed him gently, chuckling when he rolled his eyes over her joke.

“Honestly, is _everyone_ in on this joke?” Dante demanded, leaning forward to glance at Trish at the other end of the table. The woman had the gall to raise her glass at him, eyes dancing with laughter. He glowered at her, earning a pleased grin for it.

“Sure, did you expect anything else? Thanks,” Lady added when he topped off the Eggnog for her. “Have to say though, this is not _bad_.”

Following her gesture around the room, Dante had to say that, it really wasn’t. It was surprisingly… _comfortable_ , with everyone being in high spirits, laughing and chatting.

 

“Hmhm, not bad at all,” quirking a grin, Dante raised his glass towards the head of the table where Kyrie was just taking her seat at last. “Kudos to the hostess, I have to say.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, it’s _your_ shop,” Kyrie admonished, laughing.

“No, he’s right,” Morrison winked at Dante from the opposite side of the table. Raising his drink, he declared loud enough to be heard over the initial chatter. “People, I think it’s time to drink a toast to Kyrie, for having this idea in the first place and making it possible. Cheers!”

“Hear, hear!”

“To Kyrie, indeed!”

“Cheers!”

“Yeah, and thanks for the food!”

By the time the last cheering died down, Kyrie had her face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking with barely swallowed laughter. “You’re all so _ridiculous_ ,” she mumbled, voice quivering with giggles, earning herself another round of laughter.

 

“Kyrie, Nero? Can I give Uncle Dante his present now?”

 

The small voice speaking up effectively silenced the last bit of laughter, heads turning in surprise.

Elisa meet the baffled gazes with wide, questioning eyes, still looking a bit sleepy, but getting more and more awake by the second.

The group exchanged surprised and amazed gazes over her head. Nico mouthed a quiet _You heard that?_ towards Patty, who nodded enthusiastically, eyes sparkling suspiciously. Dante raised an eyebrow at Kyrie and got a beaming smile for it.

Even now, quite some time since coming to the orphanage, it was rare for little Elisa to speak up in a group of people, and for her to do so audibly and to ask for something that she _wanted_ was still new and precious.

 

When nobody answered her, Elisa frowned, reaching over to tug at Kyrie’s sleeve gently, as she had so often when speaking had been too much for her.

Kyrie exchanged a quick glance with Nero who shrugged, scratching his nose. Looking hesitant still, Kyrie turned back to her charge, starting, “Sweetie, didn’t we say we would wait until after dinner with the presents?”

Elisa’s expression fairly crumbled, her grip on the sleeve tightening.

“Oh, no, sweetie, I didn’t mean…”

“It’s just one present!” Angelo joined in, slipping from his seat to rush to the girl’s side. Planting both hands firmly on her small shoulders, he looked up at the adults pleadingly. “And we don’t mind waiting with dinner a bit longer, right?”

“Right,” Nico joined in. “And I’m curious now what the present is.”

“Yeah, can’t leave us hanging like that!” Lady added.

“We would all _suffer_ from the curiosity,” V pointed out mildly, smirking when Nero rolled his eyes at him and murmured _dramatic, dude._

“Fine, guys, I got it, it’s _fine_.” Kyrie shook her head with a wide, fond smile. “I don’t see a problem with one present being a little earlier than the others. Go ahead, Elisa.”

“ _Yes!”_ Angelo cheered at the same time as Elisa’s smile returned full-force. The girl turned and ran off towards the coatrack by the door, starting to dig through the bags that had been left at the foot of it with obvious glee.

 

The short pause in proceedings gave Dante time to flag Nero down, waving him over. The younger complied with a feigned sign, leaning in close to listen. “Yes?”

“What exactly do I got coming here?” Dante inquired, nodding towards Elisa.

“What, you nervous?”

“Kid,” Dante intoned, all jest gone from his voice. Nero straightened, smirk vanishing as he listened intently. “Nobody told me we’re supposed to have _presents_ ready here.”

He nodded over to the girl who was still digging through the bags, looking to all the world as if she was on a very important mission. “I don’t have anything in return.”

The way Nero’s gaze softened at that didn’t sit all too well with Dante, but he ground his teeth together and stayed still instead of deflecting with more jokes.

“Dante, relax. This isn’t an _obligation_ ,” how Nero managed to make an eye-roll audible would always be a mystery to him. “The children already gave each other a bunch of presents, and we gave them something of our own. Elisa wanted to make something for you, too. That’s all there is to it.”

“Made it? Herself?”

“Well, yeah.” Now there was surely teasing in Nero’s voice. “Difficult work. Took hours. She was very excited to hear your opinion on it.”

“And you tell me to relax. You’re _trying_ to make me nervous, you punk,” Dante groused under his breath, elbowing his chuckling nephew.

 

He had already been prepared to smile and be happy with whatever he got, since he hadn’t even suspected there would be presents for him. Hearing that there had been hours of work been put into this only made him more determined to love it no matter what.

He couldn’t help but reach up to pat Nero’s forearm reassuringly, rumbling lowly, “I’m going to be properly amazed.”

“You better be,” it might have been a threat, somewhere deep down, but Nero was smiling slightly while saying it.

Then the younger man was gone from his side, and instead Dante was faced with a little girl, flushed red and wide eyed in excitement, holding a roll of paper out to him with shaking hands.

Dante would forever deny that his hands weren’t quite steady either while unrolling the paper carefully, muttering. “Now, let’s see what we got here…”

There was rustling beside him, someone leaning over his shoulder to take a look as well, someone else gasping quietly before whispering “Aw so cute!”. He didn’t pay them any mind, occupied with starring at the drawing he had been handed.

 

It wasn’t too difficult to figure out what he was looking at, even for him - a portrait. The mop of hair drawn with silvery-gleaming colored pencil already giving away who he was looking at, the shoulders colored in red and the haphazardly drawn beard stubble in grey only topping it off.

It wasn’t perfect, far from it, but he would have personally thrown anyone who dared to point out any flaw into the flaming pits of Hell.

Blinking hard, Dante cleared his throat, hmm-ed for a moment, squinted at the drawing some more (more felt than saw Elisa vibrate in excitement next to him) before he made a surprised sound, holding the picture away from himself as if realization had only just struck him. “Hold on, this _isn’t_ a photograph?! Could have fooled me!”

Elisa burst into giggles, flushing red, while Kyrie squeezed her shoulder, whispering none too quietly “Told you he would like it!”

 

“Absolutely captured my roguishly good looks,” Dante declared, generously ignoring the way Lady kicked his shin under the table or how loudly Trish snorted over that statement. “I will need this framed. This gets a place of honor on my desk.”

“Oh good, then that desk is finally going to be used for something else than sleeping on it,” Morrison retorted, grinning even when Dante shot him a mock-offended look. “Oh, don’t give me that, I’m gonna get you that frame, after all.”

“You’re only half right, though,” Patty piped up, pointing with her fork for emphasis, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “He was using it to stash his magazines, too.”

“Fair enough.”

“Bunch of cheeky smartasses,” Dante muttered under his breath, not quite seriously, earning nothing more than stifled giggles and snorts for it. He opted to ignore them, instead rolled his drawing carefully back up and turned back to Elisa. Making sure to lean down to her eyelevel as he spoke to her. “Thanks for the portrait, princess. Best present I ever got, I might say.”

 

The beaming smile that made her entire face lit had been expected. The way she surged forward, throwing thin arms around his neck to hug him tightly, however, was entirely unexpected. Dante all but froze in surprise for a second before he relaxed, patting the girl’s back gently. “Woah there, slow down a bit. Not going anywhere.”

“Love you, Uncle.”

The words were whispered against his neck so quietly, but fervently, he would have missed it where it not for his sharp hearing. It silenced him better than even a sword stabbed through his chest could have ever done. His heart seemed to miss several beats, lungs too tight to draw breath.

 

_“Are you happy, Dante?”_

 

Dante cleared his throat, willing his body to cooperate. Wrapping his second arm around the little girl, he squeezed her gently, whispering back. “Love you, too, princess.”

If he buried his face for a second longer than necessary in Elisa’s tousled hair, blinking hard, then heck, nobody could prove it to him afterwards.

Another loud clearing of his throat, and he gently put Elisa back down to her feet, releasing her while ruffling her hair. “Okay, that’s enough cuddling for an entire week. Go get the first slice of that tasty pizza now, princess, you get the honors.”

Elisa’s laughter rang out like bells as she chased around the table, jumping straight at Nero, who caught her easily and lifted her onto Kyrie’s lap.

“So, does that mean we can start eating now?”

“Sure!” Kyrie shifted Elisa in her lap, dropping a kiss to the crown of the girl’s head, before looking up, gesturing at the table. “Everyone, dig in!”

“Oh god, finally, I was starving.”

“You ate the whole time while we were cooking.”

“Sampling makes me only hungrier!”

“Nero, do you think Dante will like my present, too?”

“Sure he will, bud. No doubt about it.”

The conversations started up again, flowing easily as everyone helped themselves to their food or helped others out to reach certain dishes.

 

Dante stood up from the table while everyone was distracted, mumbling something about being right back. Some heads turned, some smiles were sent his way, but nobody really questioned it as he left the table and ambled over to his desk.

The rolled up drawing found a place behind the photograph’s frame, tucked in there neatly until he had a right frame for it, too. Dante paused, considering both of the pictures for a moment, before turning back towards the others.

Not yet joining them. Not yet. From over here, he had a nice view of them all, and he luxuriated in simply watching for a moment.

Just as he watched, Patty showed Morrison something on her phone, both of them smiling down at it fondly (the distinct feeling that they had managed to snap a picture of his hug with Elisa crept up on him. He would have to get a hold of that one later). Angelo was retelling a story to Nico and V with flailing arms, causing the mechanic to laugh loud and cheerful and slap V’s shoulder, the young man chuckling at her mirth. Nero used the distraction to press a gentle kiss to Kyrie’s forehead, making the young woman smile up at him brightly. Trish and Lady clinked their glasses together, faces alight with laughter.

 

They had given him so much. The thought caused warmth to course through him.

Although it was soon followed by the niggling realization that he didn’t even have a small present for them in return.

He could vividly imagine their reaction, should he decide to voice this thought out loud. Could see them telling him it was alright, or tease him for worrying over something silly like that. Perhaps point out how he didn’t even have money to buy presents for them – and anyway, shouldn’t he pay off his debts first before buying new stuff?

It would be anticipated, would be _normal_ , having them tease rather than be bothered by it. A nice and easy way to drop the subject and forget about it.

 

Only that he didn’t _want_ to forget about it. It bothered him. He _wanted_ to give something in return, this time, now that there _was_ a time where he _could_.

 

Caught up in his thoughts as he was, he belatedly registered a sound from the direction of the door – a scratching, a thump. The sound of a hoarse cough.

Then something or someone banged against the front door with such a strength that the whole house front seemed to shake with it, windows clinking and wood groaning.

 

The entire shop fell silent as if sound had been cut off.

 

Rising to his full height, ready to jump into action should their latest guest try to kick down the door and join the party, Dante waited. The banging didn’t repeat itself. In fact, everything had gone eerily quiet.

Shooting a quick look towards the table, where everyone either looking at him or the door, Dante make a quick hand motion – _wait; stay_ – before reaching for the top drawer of his desk, retrieving Ebony and Ivory.

Cocking both guns, he crossed the space to the door soundlessly, paused, listened – still almost _too_ quiet – before ripping the door open and raising his guns in one smooth motion.

 

Nobody there.

But just atop the stairs and right in front of the door, sat a jute bag that seemed ready to rip at the seams.

 

After a second of confusion, recognition hit, and Dante looked up abruptly to check his surroundings.

On the streets, the roofs - no one was in sight.

Especially not a stranger in an ill-fitting Santa Clause-costume.

 

Deeming it save for now, Dante holstered his guns and directed his attention to the found at his feet. He briefly considered the possibility of this being a trap, before he shrugged and crouched down, reaching out to tug the bag open.

Nothing for it, after all.

Instead of a writhing mass of tiny demons or an explosion or something similarly trap-like (he had been there before), what tumbled out of the bag and towards him was an array of presents. Different in size and shape, but all neatly wrapped in gleaming paper, with bows on top, each of them having name tags attached to them.

 

With the names of his friends, Dante realized, more and more speechless and reeling by the second. There was one for Patty, and Nero, and the kids, and…

There was a note, on top of it all, so small and unremarkable in contrast to the rest of the content that he hadn’t noticed it at first. He plucked it up before it could be blown away, turning it to discover a neat handwriting, lilac shimmering letters assembled in neat rows -

 

_Don’t get bright ideas - this is a one-time reward for not running. And to pay off some old debts - R._

 

“Dante?”

 

He turned his head at the call, shooting a look over his shoulder.

 

Nero was standing, hand reaching for a weapon at his belt – his gun, most likely, since the sword had been left next to the door – one eyebrow raised in a silent question. Lady had her chair tilted backwards, gaze scanning the darkness behind Dante as if she was just looking for someone dumb enough to prove a worthy target for her. A spark flickered over Trish’s finger, reflecting on the cane V had suddenly in one hand, playing with it idly. Nico was clutching her fork just a tad too tightly to be comfortable, free hand creeping for the bag at her hips.

Even Kyrie had halted her movements while cutting the pizza in half, exchanging quick glances with Morrison, who was conveniently placed between the door and the kids, and Patty, who was fiddling with her amulet, frowning.

 

Dante took a moment to really appreciate the sight – appreciate the bunch of people who were be ready to leap into action for him, not even thinking about the fact that there wasn’t much he _couldn’t_ take on alone.

Not giving a damn, since they considered it a _fact_ that he didn’t _have_ to take it on alone.

 

Nero’s eyebrow climbed up higher, and he relaxed – just like the others around him, chairs scrapping and weapons being slowly lowered – seemingly considering it safe now that Dante had been silent for so long. A smirk tugged at his lips, caused by whatever he saw on the older man’s face. “What?

Angelo’s curly head peeked around Morrison before Dante could answer, trying to look past the open door. “Who was at the door? What do you have there?”

 

Dante tried to answer with something witty, he really did. But there seemed to be something lodged in his throat, making it difficult to swallow or speak.

And he found that, for the first time this evening, he couldn’t recall the voices of his childhood echoing in his head, even if he tried. Albeit not eradicated, but effectively drowned out by this newfound appreciation for this gathering of people who had made themselves at home here, with him.

 

So instead, he lifted the bag inside – heavy fucking thing, he nodded absentmindedly, there must have been more than enough for all of them – and held it up for inspection, a bright, honest smile making its way on his face full-force.

 

“Does that whole rule about waiting for presents until after dinner still stand, or can we make an exception?”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ D ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Rodin was fairly sure that the fact that it had started to snow while he was still out and about was a bad prank with him as the poor victim.

 

Muttering curses in tongues long lost and forgotten under his breath, he tried without success to get anything out of the cigar stump hanging limply from the corner of his mouth. Finally conceding defeat, he tugged the offending thing from between his lips and threw it over his shoulders, not even turning to see it disappear in a flurry of sparks and ashes.

 

He was digging through his pockets for a new one when a blast of cold wind whipped the seam of his red coat around, tugging at it as insistently as tiny hands. All his renewed cursing and tugging it back didn’t help, wisps of wind tangling in his fake beard and trying to rip the hat straight from his head as if to purposefully annoy him.

“Dammit all to Inferno and back again- _enough!_ ” Thundering the words into the dark of the night, he ripped the hat off himself, crushing it in his fist. “Enough of makin’ me look a _fool_ for one century at _least_ , ‘m drawin’ a line here, fuck’s sake!”

Nobody answered. Nobody laughed at him, not even good naturedly.

For some reason, he almost wished it had been different.

 

(How long since somebody had stood up to him? That somebody had laughed at him not in malice, but all in the name of joke? That somebody had laughed _with_ him?)

 

At least the wind died down a bit. Grumbling to himself, Rodin pulled out his cigar case, retrieving one to put between his teeth. Hand hovering at the unlit tip, he chewed on it, frowning thoughtfully into the dark.

 

(He had tried to assess the kid’s age during their “conversation”, but the aging process of mortals had always been a mystery to him. The white hair certainly didn’t help, either, and neither did all that frowning. But it should have been… well a few decades couldn’t be too far off, could they? Decades. For him, nothing more than a blink – so why did it feel so long right now?)

 

“He’s fine,” he said out loud, not sure himself if he was talking to himself, the wind or the sky or something beyond that.

Wasn’t even sure _where_ he should have directed this _to_ – he couldn’t imagine either of the two he was looking for going to Hell _or_ Heaven. Neither Inferno nor Hell, Paradiso or Heaven had ever held a place for them go to, after it all ended.

 

(He certainly hadn’t found them on his many travels through the realms, and he was glad for it. He didn’t have any interest in stumbling upon their souls, being tortured for eternity in their death. As it was, he could shrug it off and pretend they had, somehow, managed to escape, find an Afterlife of their very own making. He certainly thought those two capable of doing just that, of defying all odds.)

 

Clicking his fingers until a spark danced on his fingertip, Rodin continued to mutter to himself, “Stubborn, distrustful and cocksure, just like the devil himself, that one _._ No manners at all.”

Pausing, he considered his statement again, taking the first few calming drags, feeling the smoke curl down his throat. “Eh, guess he got your soft heart at least, Eva. Woulda liked that, I bet.”

The wind picked up again, catching the thin plume of smoke he blew out and letting it dance merrily into the night sky.

 

Suddenly, he felt a laugh bubble up from deep in his chest. Laughing at the shitty weather, perhaps. Maybe at the world, fucked up as it was. Maybe at himself, for standing around in the cold in a crappy Santa costume and lamenting when he didn’t even know for sure _what_ he was lamenting _._

He didn’t really care about what or that he might have looked like a lunatic to anyone passing by. He laughed and laughed until it tapered off into chuckles, then died down completely.

 _Oh, what the hell,_ Rodin mused, taking great pleasure in letting the flames dance from his fingertips over to the material of the offending hat still clasped tightly in his fist. _Just this once._

 

Even someone like him, as infinite as the universe, should be allowed to get a bit soft around this season that humans had declared a holiday long ago.

What better time to become a bit melancholic than now, where the veil between worlds became thin, when past, present and future couldn’t always be told apart, and magic infused the fabric of being so strongly that even an ordinary person was treated to a miracle every now and then?

 

Rodin watched with grim satisfaction as the Santa hat finally fell to ashes in his hand, shaking it off with a derisive gesture, sending the flakes tumbling into the wintery air. The garment had done its deed for this year. Just as he had – more then, considering old debts had been paid.

 

(Next time, perhaps in a few more decades from this point onwards, when things got quiet and memories got loud again, he would be able to remember his past companions with a laugh and an insult on his lips, rather than the feeling that there were things left open and unfinished.)

 

For now, though…

 

He snapped his fingers and the rest of the costume fell away, vanishing into thin air while his usual attire replaced it. A second snap, and he held a fresh cigar in one hand, lilac flame dancing on the tip of the thumb on his other hand.

A third snap, and the air tore open in front of him, reality shifting and distorting to form a portal back to his bar.

 

“Back to business we go!” Straightening his favorite jacket again, he squared his shoulders and bared his teeth in a wide grin that would have sent demons and angels alike running for their lives. The darkness swirling inside of the portal swallowed him up when he stepped right into it, still chuckling to himself.

 

Behind him, the portal collapsed into itself. The snowfall picked up, the flurry of white flakes magnifying and filling in the footprints he had left in the thin layer of snow.

Minutes later, it was as if he had never been there in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some side notes: 
> 
> * I played around with V’s speech pattern a lot, and this one is what I liked best. I wanted to find a way of speaking for him that fits the guy we have seen in trailers – calm, even, quoting famous authors easily, but snarky. Perhaps a hint of archaic in the way he speaks, since most of his quotes are from older books, so maybe he picked that manner of speech up. (I also made V a good guy, because I hope that is what he will be by the end of DMC 5. And no, I do not want spoilers or leaks for that, if anybody has them.)
> 
> * So if I got that right, then Latkes are a Hannukah specific food. Nico was described as Jewish somewhere – I can’t recall where I read that – and I decided to fit that in here, too, at least a tiny bit
> 
> * I had lots of fun writing Rodin, but I have to say, he’s probably pretty OOC here. Don’t take that at face value – I literally just wanted him to be kind of a “ghost of the past” kind of thing, you know, Charles Dicken’s Christmas story all over again with an unwilling helper? XD

**Author's Note:**

> Some Trivia on what I imagined while I wrote this: 
> 
>  
> 
> * Elisa and Angelo are, as mentioned in the tags, OCs. More importantly, they are orphans living with Kyrie and Nero – since it was leaked for DMC 5 that Kyrie works in or even owns an orphanage, I couldn’t help but think up a few kids who absolutely adore her, Nero and the rest of the DMC crew. Because kids are cute, and I love writing cute moments with kids. That’s honestly the main reason. 
> 
> * Christmas is something that is celebrated with the ones you love, and though the DMC crew sure cares about each other, I think they are not really good at SHOWING it – so, nobody ever really considered celebrating together, before. It would take someone like Kyrie, or Kyrie with backup, to put their foot down and just go ahead and DO it, because the other dorks wouldn’t even think of it. So that’s what happened here. 
> 
>  
> 
> * I’m not sure if in this series, I will make Eva an umbra witch (as was theorized a few times before, because a witch-item in “Bayonetta” is being described as made by Eva, who was in contact with a Legendary Knight, which could either BE Eva from DMC or just a HOMAGE to Eva from DMC) – but I sure as heck headcanon her as a) having fought against demons herself and b) being lovable and headstrong enough that even someone like Rodin can’t help but hold some sympathy and probably even affection for her. 
> 
>  
> 
> * With the point of Rodin knowing / liking Eva, I had in mind that if he stumbled upon Eva’s and Sparda’s family – like, here, Dante – and got the feeling that they are in trouble, he would use that opportunity to pay back whatever debt he felt he still had towards Eva and Sparda. Just to be even. Not because he CARES. Of course not. Duh.


End file.
